Black Winter
by freya1867v2
Summary: Toki's relationship with Skwisgaar is more complicated than he thought. Post-Fatherklok AU. Slash? You decide.
1. Chapter 1

The return trip over the Atlantic Ocean was longer than Toki ever remembered it being. He wished that he could sleep, could whittle away the dragging, tense seconds that passed between he and Dethklok's only other conscious member. Nathan, Pickles, and Murderface had been lucky to escape this. Toki knew that they wouldn't have felt what he did right now though anyway, for Skwisgaar's annoyance was obviously only for him. Things had been okay when they first boarded. _Good_, even. As hard as the three American members of the band tried to hide it, they were happy Skwisgaar was back on more than just a professional plateau. Even Toki himself had found a hard time in keeping a smile back as they all settled in for the overseas flight. The atmosphere between them was light.

And then Nathan gave Skwisgaar an update on what had happened while he was gone.

Toki had watched with growing unease as Skwisgaar's sneer became more and more pronounced, those blue eyes, narrowed and cold, finding him so frequently throughout Nathan's recounting. He sunk in his seat, trying to hide himself from the other guitarist by blending in with the furniture. Even now, hours later, he could still remember the sound of Skwisgaar's laughter when he was told that Toki had failed as Dethklok's lead guitarist, citing that it was probably much more responsibility than some little crybaby dildo could manage anyway.

Once the joke was made about Skwisgaar's superiority over Toki and the rest of the band had soon ingested enough alcohol to send them on their way into forced unconsciousness, it was he and the blond. Skwisgaar had skipped out on drinking for obvious reasons, as far as Toki could tell, needing to practice his guitar after so long of musical inactivity. Toki himself. . .he wasn't entirely sure why he wasn't drinking. Alcohol would give him a very good way to escape the obvious discomfort aboard the aircraft, but something more instinctive, more. . .deep down told him to remain alert. He didn't know why, but it definitely stayed his hand from reaching for a bottle of any kind. It wasn't a good feeling. It was what kept him awake, as well. It was what kept him from escaping this tension between he and Skwisgaar.

Silently, Toki regarded the blond guitarist. As far as he was aware, Skwisgaar thought he'd followed in the others' footsteps as they attempted to pass the time before they were back on ground—if one could call it that, given where Mordhaus was currently located—and wasn't aware that he had a spectator. Toki became as lost in watching as Skwisgaar was in playing. He forgot sometimes why he admired Skwisgaar, especially given how much of a dick the Swede usually was to him. He hadn't been so bad since the fire and Offdensen's brief disappearance, but it took more than a few months to make up for years of abuse, as far as Toki was concerned.

He watched the fingers flying over the fretboard. Every once in a while, his pale blue eyes would flicker up to Skwisgaar's face. He wondered what the Swede was thinking, what was fuelling his speed. It was a bit of a dumb thing to ponder, really. Obviously, it was Sweden. If something hadn't happened in Sweden—Skwisgaar had yet to mention what it was exactly that had changed his mind in returning to Dethklok—there was no way his fingers would be reaching _this_ speed. Toki could remember how fast they'd gone when his mother embarrassed him on international television, and was finding _this_ speed to be very familiar.

"So. T'oughts you woulds be Det'klok's lead guitsarist, dids you?"

The sudden address made Toki jump a little in his seat. He decided not to question how the other man knew he was awake. The further discomfort he felt in just knowing that Skwisgaar was aware he was being watched the whole time was bad enough without an actual explanation attached to it.

Toki spluttered first, hand flying to his hair as he scratched lightly at the back of his head. "I—I just. . ._somesbodies_ had to takes your spot."

Skwisgaar laughed, the same mirthless guffawing that had overcome him when he was first told of Toki's temporary promotion. "Ams you crazy, Toki? Nobodies coulds take my spots. Nots you, nots nobodies."

Toki frowned at that. "That's stupid, Skwisgaar. What's you think, thats the whole band ams just goings to stop because you decides all of a suddens that living with your mom ams more importsant? That ams _reallies_ stupid. Don'ts be so selfish alls de time."

With those words, Skwisgaar's fingers came to an abrupt stop. The Swede was still, immensely so, for a moment before picking up again. A prominent sneer graced his features and he was playing even quicker than before. Toki's brow furrowed further, the strange anxiety reemerging. He didn't care, really, if Skwisgaar was mad for calling him selfish. Skwisgaar _had_ been selfish. He was just beginning to self-congratulate in sticking up for himself with Skwisgaar when the Swede spoke up again.

"Oh, so _I's_ de selfish one?" Skwisgaar snarled at Toki. The Norwegian was sure that if so much space didn't divide them, he would have been swatted at or hit. "_I's de selfish one?_ Who de fucks ams _you_ to talks, Toki? Who fuckingks trieds to cheers you up whens you finds out yous dad ams dyingk, ah? Who dids dat? Dat was me! Who wents to Norsway wit' you to sees him whats once last times? We alls wents wit' you! Den what happens when I's havingks troubles findingk someones dat I nevers gots to knows alls my life and beingks sads about it and tryingks to keeps my eeimage whens all dese ladies say dats I's givens dem kids? Where was am you? I tells you were you was. You was am t'inkings about what dis meants for _you._ You was am t'inking abouts how you coulds bensfit froms _my_ family shits! If dat ams nots selfsgish, dens I don'ts know what ams. Ams dat seriousklies alls dat you t'inks about, Toki? Guitstars?"

The longer Skwisgaar went on, the louder he got. Around them, Nathan, Murderface, and Pickles were beginning to rouse. Nathan grumbled, running a hand down his face, but Skwisgaar wasn't done yet.

"You didn'ts t'inks of nobodies but youself, Toki! You didn'ts t'ink abouts me, you didn'ts t'ink abouts Pickle, you didn'ts t'ink about Nat'an, and you didn'ts t'ink abouts Moiderface! You t'oughts about _you._ Yous and yous guitar. You didn'ts care dat I was havingks a t'ing. You careds dat I was outs of de way so dats you could plays in mine place. You didn'ts care abouts de band. You knows how I know? Bescause yous am a sloppies guitar players and you can'ts write music for Det'klok and if you careds at all abouts de band you woulds has _helpsded_ me and nots let me go!"

There was a lurch as the Dethkopter touched down on the airborne Mordhaus. Now that Skwisgaar had said all that he wanted to, there was silence. Nathan blinked at Skwisgaar, still trying to understand what the subject of argument was, Pickles had one eyebrow cocked, and Murderface looked as interested in the fight as though it were a tennis match.

Skwisgaar was still sneering at Toki. Whether he was waiting for a response or not, the rhythm guitarist really didn't know. He was actually rather speechless. He'd been the subject of Skwisgaar's lash outs, but never that severely and never that personally. Words finally returned to his mind when Skwisgaar huffed, stood, threw his guitar over his back, and strode towards the nearest exit to leave.

"Don'ts even pretend that you woulds have done differently, Skwisgaar."

The Swede stopped in the doorway, growing still once again. Slowly, he turned back. "Whats did you say?"

Toki stood up as well, feeling better about the uneasiness he felt now that his bandmates were awake. "You wouldn'ts has done any differentlies. If its was _me_ that was the lead guitarist and I was goings through shits you wouldn'ts of just waiteds until I was outs of the way, you woulds of _pushed_ me."

Nathan cleared his throat uncomfortably as Skwisgaar strode back across the length of the room, standing up just in case things should get out of hand. It wouldn't be the first time he'd torn his guitarists apart.

Toki stood his ground as Skwisgaar approached and towered over him, his exterior showing nothing of the urge he felt to either flee or step down. He reminded himself that he was stronger than Skwisgaar and that if anything should happen between them physically, he'd have the upper hand.

Skwisgaar jabbed Toki in the chest, eyes narrowed. "You don'ts say a _t'ing._ You watch what you says. You don'ts know what I's capable of."

Having said that and satisfied with himself, Skwisgaar took a step back. He sneered at Toki again before glancing at the frontman, who loomed nearer. He pushed past Nathan, bumping his shoulder as he departed the Dethkopter.

The rest of the band watched him leave. Toki blinked a few times, running those words over again in his mind. _What Skwisgaar was capable of?_

He looked to Nathan. Normally, the frontman would be more confused than anything, but that didn't seem to be the case. Nathan's brow was furrowed and his head bowed, a lock of hair in his face.

Toki honestly couldn't figure out if that bothered him more than Skwisgaar's threat.


	2. Chapter 2

Toki sat quietly in his room. Things had gone back to normal around Mordhaus, or as normal as they got, anyway. Pickles, Nathan, and Murderface were bullshitting in the hot tub, the latter two maybe still participating in an argument of some sort over something trivial. He knew that Skwisgaar had been in there for a little while—as had he—but Skwisgaar now retired to his room to get away from Murderface and his paternal determination. When Toki left their company to work on the new airplane he'd gotten that day, he heard Skwisgaar practicing as he passed his bedroom door. Now that he was there, though, he couldn't concentrate on the model. He was sitting in the chair at his desk, the box unopened before him. His arms hung limply at his sides. He couldn't seem to do anything. He could only think.

He'd rarely concerned himself with Skwisgaar and his affairs or temperament, but this was really bothering Toki. For one, he was at least ninety-nine percent sure that he'd been threatened. With what, exactly? What would happen to him? What kinds of things were Skwisgaar capable of? The Swede had never seemed the underhanded type before, but. . .maybe he was mistaken?

Rather abruptly, Toki got up from his chair and left the room. He passed Skwisgaar's quarters quickly and quietly, not wanting the Swede to know he was there. When he got back to the recreation room, though, it was empty. Toki shrugged and carried on. Pickles' room was closest, and he liked the drummer. He was more comfortable talking with _him_ about what Skwisgaar may have meant on the Dethkopter than Nathan or Murderface.

He knocked on Pickles' door, hoping the redhead hadn't passed out by now. "Pickle? Pickle, ams you awake?"

Pickles had just been lounging in his underwear, preparing to sit down with a cigarette or ten while he watched some of his favorite cartoons. He took a quick inhalation off his first one before speaking. "Oh. Yeeuh. Come ahn in."

Toki let himself in, carefully closing the door behind him. He paused for a second, and then moved over to where the drummer was sitting, plopping down next to him.

Pickles cocked an eyebrow. "You okee? Look kinda twitchy dere."

"I's—" Toki stopped himself there. He didn't want to admit right off the bat that he was worried. "You remembers what Skwisgaar saids to me when we were ons the Dethkopter, rights?"

"Ehh. . ." Pickles trailed off, rubbing at his forehead. "Was kinda drenk. Meight need a reminder. Heh."

Toki worked the bottom of his lip and looked away from Pickles. He couldn't think of anything funny about it, but all right. "He saids I should watch myself because I don'ts know what he's capables of."

Pickles blinked a few times, then nodded slowly. "Oh. Yeeuh. Thet."

Toki didn't bother to hide just how worried he was when he looked back at the other man. "Whats do you think he meants by that? What ams he capable of, Pickle? I don'ts get it."

He pressed his lips together. He didn't even know if he _wanted_ to, but damn it, he had to know what he was against, if anything.

Pickles took a thoughtful drag from his cigarette, brow furrowed. He could see just how much this was bothering the Norwegian and wanted to be able to provide his friend the best possible answer. "Naht too mech, thet I knoow of. He's naht very strahng, bett he kin hold his oon in a fight. He took oot a few'a them Revenge dicks whin Mordhaus caught fire. I'onno, Tokee. I don' theenk it's rilly thet mech ta werry aboot. It was prahbly jest an empty threeat. Ya know him. He's jest a dick."

Toki nodded, but really wasn't sure. It hadn't sounded empty. Not in the least. He tried to embrace what Pickles was telling him, but that feeling of unsettlement that he'd had ever since they retrieved Skwisgaar from his hometown still lingered. Sighing, he thanked Pickles for his time and left.

In the hallway, Toki shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked the floor as he drug his feet along. He hadn't really wanted to ask Nathan, having set his hopes high that Pickles might be able to make him feel better. The more Toki thought about it, the more he felt that there was a gap in what he knew. That look that Skwisgaar had sent Nathan, the way the frontman took it into consideration. . .had something happened between them? _To_ them?

It took Toki a little bit of searching, but he finally found Nathan. He'd passed through the recreation room a few times, but on the final time when he was heading back to his room, giving it up for another day, he heard a grunt and crack of a beer. He slowed to a stop, looking towards the couch. Nathan was indeed there, free hand behind his head and eyes stuck to the television.

He sat down next to the American and looked up at the television. Another documentary, this time about the Mayan civilizations. He gazed at it wide-eyed, not paying attention. "Hi, Nat'ans. Whats you watchings?"

"Hm. Discovery Channel." The frontman shrugged and downed half of his beer. "I dunno. Not really anything on."

"Oh. That sucks. You wants to drink?" Toki asked, glancing at Nathan surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye. Nathan didn't like to talk too much when he was sober, and if this was heavy subject manner than the need for the frontman to be drunk became much more imperative.

"Uh. Yeah. Sounds fucking good." Nathan glanced down at his beer. This was the fourth or fifth one he'd had already but he definitely had plenty of room for more.

"Okays! I gets you lots of beers," Toki offered. He got up and went to the closest Klokateer, requesting that lots of Nathan's favorite beer be brought to him. He himself wouldn't be having any.

Toki set them out before Nathan on the table, relieving his full arms. Nathan watched him, expression not indicative in the least of his thoughts. "There you goes. I gets you lots of beers. Start drinking, Nathans."

Nathan stared at the beer a little while longer, and then looked suspiciously to Toki. "Aren't you having any?"

Toki shook his head. "No, these am _your_ beers."

The frontman grumbled, but shrugged. He took it at face value that Toki was just trying to please him, something that he actually did rather often. It was working so far. He was feeling rather amiable towards the Norwegian for bringing him a stockpile of his favorite drink, and finished the one he was currently working on so that he could begin on the collection sitting on the table.

Toki folded his hands neatly in his lap as he watched Nathan. With how fast the man was drinking, this would take hardly any time at all. Nathan began to slow, but he didn't stop until all the beer had been ingested and glass bottles littered the floor and couch cushions around him. He blinked blearily at the television. Yeah, he was starting to feel pretty drunk now.

"Hows you feel, Nathans?"

Nathan blinked again. "Pretty good. Hm. Yeah."

Something Toki hadn't considered was that maybe while Nathan was drunk he wouldn't have any idea what he was talking about. Oh, well. There was only one way to find out and if Nathan didn't, he could give this a shot when the man was sober the next day or quite possibly later that night. "There ams something I wants to knows about. Nots about you. Abouts Skwisgaar."

"Uhhhh, 'kay?"

"Does you remembers what Skwisgaar saids to me before we landeds?" Toki asked.

Nathan bowed his head in thought, eyes darting a little slower than they usually did when he was thinking. Eventually, Toki jogged his memory a little better. "He saids that I didn't know what he was capable ofs. Then he looks at you, likes you knew something. You was thinking about it when he dids. Whats was you thinking abouts?"

"Hm." Nathan's slow mind was worse than usual, but he could definitely remember such a thing taking place now that the Norwegian had been so specific. "Uh. Something that happened a long fucking time ago. Some band bullshit. Couldn't drink. Had to sit down and shit, doctor said. Liver transplant."

It had been at the time of Nathan's first one, when he, Pickles, Murderface, Skwisgaar, and Magnus, the guitarist they had before Toki, were sharing the rent on some place before Mordhaus was even in the construction stages. They'd become popular in the metal scene and had just been found by Offdensen. Nathan could remember being severely disgruntled that he hadn't been allowed to celebrate that fact with Pickles and Murderface.

He remembered that he'd been parked in front of the television, just as he was now, but instead of watching documentaries he was watching shitty weeknight programming. He wasn't amused by the news once the leading stories had been covered and any brutality that may have made its way onto the show passed, and he sure as fuck didn't like Wheel of Fortune. He'd settled on Cops, something of which was much more his kind of mindless entertainment.

While Murderface and Pickles had gone out to celebrate, Magnus and Skwisgaar remained behind. Magnus had things to show Skwisgaar that he'd written, and Magnus wouldn't allow Skwisgaar to go anywhere until he had done so. Nathan was used to the guitarists being at each other's throats when it came to their instruments, and so he only rolled his eyes when he heard elevated voices coming from the basement. Eventually, he turned up the television. They were going on forever, and just growing louder. He could finally block them out and be at peace with his stupid TV show.

Nathan came to a stop in telling the story when he remembered the next part. He and Skwisgaar had vowed never to speak about it again—by Offdensen's request—but he was reasonably drunk and had good momentum and. . .it felt _good_ to talk about this.

_Nathan stared at the television, silently rooting on the criminal that tried so hard to flee. Normally he would be on the cop's side when watching this show just because he didn't give a shit about the idiot that was dumb enough to be caught. The cop was being a real jackass though, and so here he was, going for the underdog. This guy seemed to have an actual chance at escape, anyway._

"Hm."

His vision was obscured by Skwisgaar, still seemingly white in the stream of the television even though the room itself was getting dark as night fell outside. The Swede seemed rather fidgety, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping like a fish as he tried to find the words he wanted to say.

His voice was rather small. "N-Nat'ans?"

Nathan's arms were now crossed tightly across his chest, his gaze fixed to the floor. Toki looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to go on. When he realized that the frontman had spoken himself into silence, he cleared his throat. "What happens, Nathans?"

The American blinked a few times, shifting uncomfortably. He knew there had been reasons that he didn't like to think about this.

"He killed him."


	3. Chapter 3

If Toki thought that he was unsettled before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. He'd learned from Nathan that what Skwisgaar had done was in self-defense, but he still was incredibly nervous about the Swede. Yet, there was a sorrow there as well. To think that the blond guitarist whose skills he coveted so much had to kill in order to avoid being killed or otherwise badly wounded made. . .everything that he ever felt about him that much more complicated. He wasn't sure how it was possible to hate and feel sorry for someone at the same time, but here he was.

Every time Skwisgaar was near Toki, the Norwegian's heart would begin to pound inside his chest, his eyes would grow larger, and he would fight to keep his breath steady. Forget nerves—he was almost _scared._ Whether it was self-defense or not, the Swede was capable of murder and he himself had been threatened.

He kept his eyes on the Swede when they were in the hot tub together or when they were sitting with the other guys in the kitchen. He was on constant edge, but the other guitarist was. . .calm. Aloof. Indifferent to his surroundings. He was back to doing what he'd always done, ignoring Toki and mostly everyone else in favor of his guitar. Every once in a while he would interject in an argument or discussion to offer his own input or opinion, but either than that Skwisgaar seemed to have forgotten his threat.

After a week, Toki finally felt as though he could breathe again. Really, how abundant were death threats between them? It wasn't as though this had been the first time Skwisgaar threatened his life. If Toki were to take every one of those times seriously he would have been buried about a hundred times over by now. It was a little different this time still, knowing that Skwisgaar _had_ killed someone before, but that stain had been in the Swede's past ever since he knew him. It had been Skwisgaar that replaced Magnus as Dethklok's lead guitarist after all, and he himself had taken Skwisgaar's place as the rhythm.

It wasn't like Toki didn't have similar stains in _his_ past, as well.

"Heey. _Heey._ You okee dere?"

Toki blinked a few times, and then shook his head roughly as he was pulled from his thoughts. He looked around. They'd all been sitting in the hot tub, but he was now the only one left. Skwisgaar, Nathan, and Murderface had all disappeared. Pickles himself was standing on the edge in his housecoat, fruity drink in hand.

"Oh. Hi, Pickle." Toki tried to smile, but it turned out a little tight. "Sorries. Was thinking pretty hards."

"Yeeuh? Sher looked like it whin I gaht oot. Didn' even say g'bye whin I said it to ya."

Toki shifted in the water. "Sorries."

"Heey, don' be—don' git doon ahn yerself, 'kee?" Pickles grinned crookedly and moved over to the couch. "You been quaiet a _laht_ leetely, ya knoow?"

"Oh, I has? Maybes." Toki shrugged, watching his foot move around at the bottom of the tub. "Kind of gots thing on my minds."

"Thet reet? Whet kinda things?"

Toki furrowed his brow and chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Magnus. I's been thinking about him. Kind ofs."

The glass Pickles had raised to drink from stopped before his waiting lips. One pierced eyebrow rose as he considered the younger man. "Magnus? Whey're ya theenkin' aboot _thet_ douche? Didn' ever even meet him, didja? Couldn'a."

Toki shook his head. "Noes. I didn'ts know him. He was am ins the band befores I evens knew any of you guys."

"Reet. Yeeuh." Pickles rested his glass on his leg, supporting the stem. "Hoow cahme yer thinkin' aboot him? I didn' knoow ennyone did, ennymore."

Toki shrugged. "I just heards that he wasn't veries nice to Skwisgaar. Or anyones, really. Didn'ts know he was the lead guitarist before Skwisgaar eidder. I t'oughts that Skwisgaar was _always_ the lead guitarist."

Pickles shook his head. It had been years ago that Magnus died and he didn't think about it anymore. He'd never been too partial towards the deceased guitarist. "Nah. Magnus was the lead, yeeuh. Skwisgare pleeyed riddim 'til the dood died, 'n' then we foond ya. He was a dick. Moostly chewed Skwisgare oot, more den any of ess. Taught'm ahll the stuff he wrote. Magnus wasn' as good a wreeter as Skwisgare, so. . .it was the best fer the band thet he died, rilly. Didn' care too mech myself whin Charlie toold ess he was dead. Don' theenk ennyone did."

Toki nodded slowly. It sounded vaguely familiar to him, this relationship, and he couldn't help but allow for his curiosity to grow. He waited for Pickles to go on.

"He was a faster guitare pleeyer than Skwisgare, ya knoow," Pickles said thoughtfully. "Naht by mech, bett he was. Skwisgare's gatten a laht better over the years; he would be weey faster noow thin Magnus was beck then. He'd been in the indistree fer a lahng time, ya knoow? Since the. . .leete seventies? I theenk? Naht too sher. He tahlked aboot himself a laht, bett I tried naht ta listen. Gaht oold, pritty quickly."

Toki cocked his head at the drummer, brow furrowed. That sentiment too was pretty fucking familiar.

"He rilly didn' leeke Skwisgare. 'R Murderfeece. Me 'n' him gaht alahng, I theenk he respected me at the leest, 'n' he def'nitely leeked Nate'n since he was the frontman 'n' ahll thet, bett he was _rilly_ mean ta Skwisgare." Pickles rubbed at his goatee. "Evin if Magnus waz older, Skwisgare had twice as menny bands under his belt. Said'e was too yahng, liddle naïve, bit too prood.

"Den. . ." Pickles paused to drink. "Magnus died. Gaht oota our hair. We gaht on wid our lives, ya knoow, stahrted lookin' fer a new guitarist for riddim pritty mech reet awee. Skwisgare was a liddle weird aboot whin he died. I theenk maybe dat even though Magnus was a dick to'm 'n' ahll, Skwisgare respected him as a guitarist. Ya knoow?"

Toki nodded. Yes, he understood that very well. He was now leaned over the edge of the tub, hanging on Pickles' words. "How was Skwisgaar weirds, Pickle?"

The drummer rubbed at his forehead, trying to remember. It had been years, but the evidence was still obvious. "Heh. Dood didn' ever cheenge oota the clothes he wore to the funeral. Stahpped wearin' thet white crep. Stahrted wearin' Magnus' oold belt, too. _Still_ wears it."

"The skulls one?"

"Yeeuh." Pickles nodded in confirmation.

Toki blinked. That was really weird. Why in the hell would Skwisgaar wear clothes that once belonged to a man that he killed? That wasn't just _weird_. . .that was actually almost bordering on _sick._

He reached for the towel he'd set out earlier for himself. "I shoulds get out of here, Pickle. I's getting all pruny. I mights go to beds. I sees you later."

The Norwegian was gone before Pickles could even consider a response. Toki had been on the verge of being able to forget about what Skwisgaar had done and said and move on with his life at Mordhaus, but now that uneasiness was returning at full swing. Trepidation swelled in his chest as he neared Skwisgaar's door. He could hear the metronome clicking on the other side, strings alongside it. Even though he was sure Skwisgaar was in one of the trances he sometimes slipped into, he quickened into a light jog. When he got to his room he shut the door with a snap behind him, locking it before sliding down its length to the floor. Sighing, he put his head in his hands.

It just didn't make sense. It didn't fit. Nothing did. Toki's thoughts whirled in his head, seemed to be upside down and out of reach. Skwisgaar killed a man in self-defense, but kept a _trophy?_ Fear was gripping at the Norwegian. He knew that one of those couldn't be true, and since he had seen for himself every day for the past who-knew-how-many years that Skwisgaar wore a skull belt. . .

Skwisgaar didn't just inherit the title as the fastest guitar player alive when Magnus died, he _took_ it. Whatever Skwisgaar had told Nathan when he did it, this was no accident, this hadn't been self-defense. Skwisgaar had _killed a man on purpose._

Toki's insides ran cold as he considered Skwisgaar's motive. Or, his best guess towards it, anyway. Skwisgaar wanted to be lead. He wanted to be the fastest guitarist alive. He wanted to be the one that wrote Dethklok's music. He wanted his rival gone.

He held his knees tightly to his chest when he remembered once again what Skwisgaar had said to him on the Dethkopter. Not so much his words, but what had provoked that threat. Sure, Skwisgaar had said a lot of things about selfishness when it came to his problems, but he did about the band, too. About Toki trying to be the lead guitarist, threatening to take the position that he'd already killed _one_ man for.

Shaking, Toki moved from the floor to his bed. He hid himself under the covers, not daring to put his back to the door. Forget uneasiness. It had been replaced now by absolute _fear._


	4. Chapter 4

Toki was slowly going crazy, he was sure of it.

He remained out of dodge for several days, not chancing to leave his room even to eat. He had Klokateers bring his meals from the kitchen, pretended he wasn't there if someone were to knock on his door, and spent all of his time compulsively assembling model planes. He put his guitar away in the back of his closet. He couldn't even look at it anymore without being reminded of Skwisgaar and what the Swede had done to ascend from the position _he_ currently held in the band.

How long could he live like this? How long could he hide until he was needed for band practice or recording? How long until Skwisgaar needed to teach him guitar lines? Oh God, what if he fucked them up badly enough that Skwisgaar felt the need to do something about it? Were his fears justified? He didn't know.

Toki had been scared a lot in the time that he lived at Mordhaus. Sometimes he had nightmares that would lead him to not sleep for days. He'd witnessed more death than he'd ever cared to see. He understood how easily death could come, how quickly life could be taken away. When it came to other people he could be indifferent, but his own? He feared for it. He legitimately feared that one day, perhaps soon, it would be seized from him.

It had crossed his mind a few times that he should quit. Or, that it was at least an option. On the nights where he let his mind get _really_ carried away, he would seriously consider it. He seriously considered telling Offdensen that he would be packing his bare essentials and going to—actually, he had no idea where he would go. That was what always got him in the end. He couldn't go back home and he sure as hell would never make it on his own anywhere else. He had no idea how to survive without servants and chefs and band managers and even bandmates if they were willing to host his company.

The sheer frustration that Toki felt at his situation had left him nearly in tears a few times as he sat in his darkened room and waited for the sun to rise and begin another lonely day for him. What the fuck could he do? He couldn't quit, he couldn't hide. . .

It was while he waited for a Hood to bring him his breakfast that an idea for a solution birthed itself in Toki's mind. Then, he discarded it. He didn't have the courage, or, he couldn't find it, anyway. Not now. He was much too afraid.

The more days that passed though, the more that thought made itself known. Could it really hurt to do, after all? He was much stronger than Skwisgaar and if the Swede tried anything when he confronted him about all that he knew he could hold him off. Sometimes Toki wondered if he had worked himself up about what the potential outcome for all of this could be. It had to have been two weeks by now since he'd learned that Skwisgaar wore the belt of the man he killed. He had to know. He needed to know if his personal safety was actually at risk. He needed to know if Skwisgaar had actually been serious with his threat or if he was bluffing. He needed to know whether his fears were valid or not.

The evening that he decided he would make the short trip from his room to Skwisgaar's was accompanied with utmost nerves. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself, but however efficient he was there always seemed to be a little jitter to his composure. Eventually, he just decided to get this over with.

He crept out of his room, glancing around surreptitiously. There were a few Klokateers wandering the halls, but that was all he saw. Clutching his arms to his middle, he began towards the Swede's door. The metronome was going, strings twanging.

Toki sighed. He raised his hand a few times to knock, but always lost heart right as his knuckles were about to meet the door. He ended up leaning against the wall for some time, trying to work himself up to it. It was a rather erratic movement when he finally told himself to just do it without thinking and get himself in there.

He waited, heart pounding in his chest. There was a shift of movement inside, and then the metronome came to a stop. "Ja?"

"Skwisgaar, is Toki." The Norwegian swallowed haphazardly. "Cans I come in fors a minute?"

There was a pause as Skwisgaar considered it. Toki wondered what _exactly_ he was thinking about, but gave his head a shake before it could settle on the spectrum of thoughts he'd been entertaining since the last time he learned those disturbing things about the blond.

"Ja. Sures. I's'll just puts my guitar and de bands aside for you, Toki. Dats am how nice I ams."

Toki actually had to fight not to roll his eyes at that. A good portion of his fear was eclipsed by the annoyance Skwisgaar so often made him feel. He hadn't forgotten the other things Skwisgaar said on the Dethkopter about his selfishness, and it seemed that the Swede was still on about how he hadn't reached out to him.

That of course linked to what Toki had concerned himself with instead of Skwisgaar's emotional well being. Upon remembering that, Toki's annoyance abated and his nerves resurfaced. He let himself in, poking his head through the door before actually admitting his body to the Swede's room. He'd been somewhat paranoid that Skwisgaar was maybe waiting _right there_ for him to. . .decapitate him with an ax or something, but he could breathe a little easier when he saw that the blond was still sitting on the edge of his bed, back to him.

Skwisgaar was practicing again, this time without his metronome. Toki cocked his head as he regarded the Swede. It was kind of weird that Skwisgaar knew nothing of the turmoil he'd been putting himself through for the past few weeks and that he probably didn't even know that Toki knew what he'd done.

Besides all that, everything was. . ._normal_ between them. Skwisgaar was ignoring him in favor of his guitar, probably growing annoyed that some pesky little crybaby dildo was just _standing_ in his room while he was trying to do something. That much was apparently when Skwisgaar spoke again.

"Whats you want? I don'ts got all days, you know!"

Toki decided that pleasantries weren't much of an option or an appeal here. His response was blunt as a result. "You killeds someone."

Much akin to how suddenly Skwisgaar had stopped playing in light of insult on the Dethkopter, the Swede became still. "So? You has too. Everysone in dis band has. Ams no bigs deal."

"This ams different, Skwisgaar." Toki furrowed his brow and crossed his arms, feeling more courageous now that he was here and he hadn't yet been threatened or attacked in any way, spare the usual. "This was a _guitarist._"

Skwisgaar was silent. Toki watched him with a scrutinizing eye, then cocked his head with parted lips when he saw the Swede's shoulders beginning to shake. He—he wasn't. . ._crying_, was he?

Toki found himself to have guessed too soon, for when Skwisgaar looked back at him over his shoulder, there weren't tears on his face but _laughter._ "Whats, little Toki? Ams you scared? T'inks dat I's goingks to comes to your rooms in de night and stands over you wit' a baseballs bat and hits you untils you nots movingks or breat'ingks no mores? _Pfffffft._

"It was am selfs-defense. I hads to does it so dats I coulds live and makes Det'klok de best bands in de world. Easies to understand as pies," Skwisgaar continued with a shrug. He turned back to his guitar, fingers starting up again. "No wonders you wouldn'ts get dat."

Toki frowned. He wouldn't have it that he be talked down to and especially not _now._ "Skwisgaar, I's not that stupids. I talks to Nathans. I talks to Pickle. I knows what you did. You killeds Magnus to takes his place in the band and you evens kept his belt. You's wearing it rights now!"

Once again, Skwisgaar's playing came to a slow. He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. "Ja. Okays. I admits dat. Magnus was a fuckingks dick. He hads it coming. I t'oughts about doing dat a _lots_ to him, but I nevers t'ought dat I acksly woulds. Happies?"

Toki blinked. "You t'oughts about killings him? Alls de times?"

Skwisgaar shrugged. "_Pffft_, you tells me one person whats you hasn't t'oughts about killingks at least once whats gets on yous nerves and ams a big. . ." He trailed off, sneering.

"He was am means to you," Toki finished for him with a small nod. "I hears about dat froms Pickle. He was ams to _you_ like you ams to _me._"

Toki pondered it first, but then moved closer and sat down on Skwisgaar's bed. He kept a reasonable distance between them. "Skwisgaar, I thinks about this for a longs time. I reallies don't know what to think. You confuses me a lots anyways, but now I's _really_ confused. I hear all these thing abouts you, but when I comes here to ask you acts like it's no big deal. Why?"

Skwisgaar sighed again, the same sigh he always gave Toki when some monumental responsibility regarding the Norwegian was shoved onto his shoulders. "What, sos you has heard from Nat'an dats I killeds de dildo and den you hears t'ing from Pickle? Pickle don'ts know. Was am betweens Nat'an, Offdensens, and me."

"No, I knows that Pickle don'ts know. He told me thing abouts how you acteds after. Didn'ts seem like no selfs-defense," Toki maintained, arms crossed again. "He tolds me that you wores white befores you did that, now you wears black. You wears Magnus' belt."

"So whats if I do?" Skwisgaar asked impatiently. "What does you even wants, Toki? You knows dat I killeds a guy, whats else you wants? A 'be ables to knows t'ing' awards?"

Toki chewed on the inside of his cheek. He knew it was a long shot, but. . . "Tells me what happens. I still don't believe that it was self-defense. I thinks you did it completesly on purpose."

Skwisgaar huffed and gave Toki a long look. "Okays. I tells you. Dens will you goes away?"

Toki nodded. However this story went determined just _how_ he would be 'going away.'

"Okays. So. I's was wit' Magnus downs in de basements of de old house what's we all used to lives in before Mordhaus," Skwisgaar began rather casually, plucking at his guitar again. "Magnus hads t'ing to shows me, but I hads heard him writings dem befores and t'oughts dey were dildos so I takes whats he writes and makes dem betters. He didn'ts like dat veries much. He starts yelling and den I starts yelling and I hits him wit' my guitars and den he. . ."

Skwisgaar trailed off as he remembered. Magnus had _not_ been impressed at being hit by the Explorer. The Swede recalled the fear, the way his breath seemed to stay in his throat as Magnus got up from the sprawled position he'd put him in on the floor. The hatred in his eyes, the snarl he emitted as he began to pull his belt from his pants. The way he looked at him as he looped it in his hand, ready to use against him.

_Skwisgaar backed slowly towards the stairs. He knew that Nathan was still home, perhaps if he got up there fast enough and put the frontman between them, he wouldn't be injured. He'd been on the receiving end of that skull before, and he knew how badly Magnus could make him hurt._

With another snarl, Magnus darted towards the Swede. He'd always been faster, and Skwisgaar knew he shouldn't have hesitated in running up to the main floor. He felt a pit in his stomach form when a hand tightened around his upper arm, cringing as well. His balance was offset as he was pulled back, sending him to the floor. He clenched his eyes shut as pain touched various places on his body with contact to concrete. He forced them open when he heard Magnus moving closer, managing to garner enough reflex to put his arms in front of his face when the other guitarist brought his belt down on him the first time. He cried out as an intense sting erupted on his left forearm, clenching his eyes again. He could already feel tears of pain welling behind them, adrenaline for his very survival beginning to pump through his blood. The belt came down a second time, then a third. The intention behind it hurt worse, hit Skwisgaar harder. He couldn't take this lying down. It wasn't an option.

One thing Skwisgaar had over Magnus was height. The lashing had caused Skwisgaar to curl into the fetal position for protection, but Magnus was close enough that when Skwisgaar kicked out, he hit him. Skwisgaar wasn't sure where he'd hit the other man, but there was a yell, the sound of leather hitting the floor next to him, and then finally another body following. Skwisgaar sat up, scrambling back away from Magnus, chest heaving. From what he could see, he'd kicked Magnus in the knee, causing it to bend the other way. The man was rolling on the floor clutching said joint, swearing and cursing Skwisgaar between labored breaths.

Skwisgaar studied him, fear still prominent in him. He knew he'd taken it too far. He knew that once Magnus recovered and found him on his own again. . .

Wincing, Skwisgaar put weight on his arms as he crawled towards the discarded belt. His heart pounded in his chest as he took it up and moved closer towards Magnus. He knew what he had to do. It was either him or Magnus, and since it boiled down to his choice. . .

"The fuck're you doing?" Magnus asked through clenched teeth, regarding the wide-eyed Swede.

Skwisgaar sneered as he brought the belt down against Magnus' cheek. He had no intention of returning the favor of agony that the lead guitarist had given him, he just needed to throw him off. It worked. In the lull of Magnus' defenses, Skwisgaar got the struggling man onto his stomach and climbed atop his back, digging his bony knees into Magnus' ribs. Before he could be thrown off, Skwisgaar wrapped the ends of the belt tightly around his hands and then looped it over and around Magnus' neck.

The other man struggled even more, but Skwisgaar wouldn't have it. He moved further up Magnus, his knee finding the back of his head to hold it in place. He was unrelenting as flailing limbs found him, the adrenaline pumping far too hard for it to even register that the person whose life he was slowly draining away was fighting back.

Magnus slowly lost his enthusiasm, then, altogether. Skwisgaar remained on top of him, grip on the belt slackening and breath coming in pants. His mind couldn't register what he'd just done, but the severity of the situation was beginning to make itself known to him. He let go of the belt and climbed off the dead guitarist, flinching when the stinging in his arms returned to his stream of awareness.

He didn't bother to look back at the body before ascending the stairs to tell Nathan what he'd done and ask for his help.

Silence descended between Toki and Skwisgaar when the Swede finished his story. Skwisgaar was solemn as he stared at his metronome, Toki contemplative. He definitely felt as though he better understood the situation, but there was still one more thing that remained unanswered.

"Has you ever thoughts about doing that to me?"

Skwisgaar blinked a few times, then looked over at the Norwegian. He scoffed. "_Pfft_, ams like what's I said. You names one person to me whats you youself hasn't t'oughts abouts killing."

"So that ams a yes."

Skwisgaar tilted his head this way and that before eventually nodded. "Ja."

Toki took a deep breath. Okay. Once again, he found himself at odds. Skwisgaar did have a very good point about trying to find someone that he himself hadn't thought about doing away with, and if probed Toki would admit that Skwisgaar was definitely the person that crossed his mind more than anyone else.

"Woulds you?" he whispered.

Skwisgaar became still again, brow furrowed. He blinked, glancing over at the Norwegian. He hadn't thought that when Toki came to his room that this was an actual concern of the younger man's. "Noes."

"I don'ts believe you," Toki said right away.

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes and turned to face Toki more on the bed with a huff. "It don'ts matter if you does or nots. I wouldn'ts. Dat's me tellingks you dat."

Toki wouldn't be deterred by such a thing as Skwisgaar telling him just to _trust_ him on it. "Oh, reallies? Nots even if I gots to bes de lead guitarist of Det'klok, I gots to plays better den yous, and whats if whens you had comes back from Sweden _I_ was de one dat treats you likes a dick and makes you learn de riddim parts of de music whats _I_ write for de bands?"

He didn't care if he was possibly egging Skwisgaar on. Toki had to know. He wouldn't be satisfied when he left here without these answers. He wanted to know if his personal safety was at risk at _all_ when bringing the Swede into consideration.

Skwisgaar gave Toki a look of annoyance. "_Pfft_, likes Nat'an would lets dat happen."

"Ams a hypotheticals. Answer the question."

Skwisgaar pursed his lips, considering it over. "Noes. I wouldn'ts. I tolds you dat. I knows you ams stupids, but not so stupids dat I shouldn'ts has to tells you twice."

"Tells me why you wouldn'ts." Now, Toki was growing curious. He felt much calmer than he had when he first arrived in Skwisgaar's room, something that was a relief to him. He knew for sure he wouldn't be leaving Mordhaus or Dethklok, now.

Skwisgaar's brow was furrowed again. This was what he'd had difficulty with, himself. "I. . .I don'ts reallies know, ackslies. Alls dat I knows is dat ifs you and I's ever gots into what's Magnus and I dids dat day and I hads de chance. . .I wouldn'ts. I wouldn'ts be ables to does it. Somet'ings would, how's you say? Stays my hand."

Toki couldn't hide his surprise when he earned an actual _earnest_ look from the other man before he lapsed back into playing his guitar. He blinked a few times, standing slowly. "O—okays, Skwisgaar."

Toki left Skwisgaar's room with that. He was even more confused now than he had been when this entire thing began. He knew there was something that Skwisgaar wasn't telling him, whether by choice or ability, he didn't know.

The first that came to his mind was the issue of strength. He knew from past experience that any physical confrontation between he and Skwisgaar always ended with _him_ as the victor. He thought of Skwisgaar's tale. Maybe Skwisgaar worried that since he was the lead guitarist and he made a move of aggression towards him that history would repeat itself and the rhythm guitarist would come out on top? That was entirely plausible.

. . .But not satisfying. That could perhaps be a factor, but it definitely wasn't a sole answer. Wouldn't Skwisgaar have at least said that he was scared of Toki when they were talking, if that were the case? No, Skwisgaar was much too proud for that. However, he _had_ admitted how scared he was of Magnus, when he thought himself on the brink of death. . .though, it _was_ much different to speak of something from the past and of a different person than it was in the present and to that someone's face.

Toki furrowed his brow as he recalled the brief glimpses of emotion he'd gotten from the other man. That look he got in the bedroom. How. . .well, _hurt_ Skwisgaar had seemed when yelling at him on the Dethkopter. Could. . .? No. Toki shook his head. Skwisgaar had admitted to thinking about killing him on various occasions. There was no room for that. Though. . .was it any different when he did the same? When he bounced back and forth so rapidly between hate and an admiration of the blond guitarist? Did Skwisgaar do the same? He couldn't, though. What did Skwisgaar have to admire in _him?_

Perhaps Skwisgaar just saw a little _too_ much of himself in Toki? That made sense to the Norwegian after all that he'd just heard, had already drawn parallels in that regard anyway, and yet. . .it made things all the more complicated. Did Skwisgaar foresee or expect Toki to follow a similar path that _he_ did, in doing what he had to do to gain what he wanted? Skwisgaar knew that wasn't possible, though. Nathan would never allow for it and besides, they _all_ knew, Toki included, that he didn't possess near the amount of skill or talent that Skwisgaar did. He supposed that as long as that remained true, a natural balance was established.

Toki returned to his room, finding that he was finally able to breathe again. He lay down on his bed, considering a nap. He hadn't been sleeping all that well with all that on his mind. He undressed and pulled back the covers, turning off his lamp when he was in and comfortable. As he drifted off, his mind kept wandering back to the Swede. That look he'd gotten. . .anything of such magnitude from Skwisgaar was significant, that was to be sure.

He tried to push it though, reminding himself that any such hope of that regard really ought not to be entertained.


End file.
